


meet me at the wrecking ball

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: After the confrontation with Ser Alrik, Justice, inspired by the conception of Kieran, decides to purge himself from Anders' body through a similar way. Anders, now alone and impregnated against his will, is so ashamed that he doesn't seek out any help or support until he reaches his breaking point.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke, Female Amell/Morrigan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	meet me at the wrecking ball

**Author's Note:**

> oh look, it's me, back from being gone for months only to bring you this tragedy that was sitting in my WIPs since April. It only finally came together when I realized that it couldn't have a happy ending so I guess take that as a warning, my friends. 
> 
> As almost always, another kink-meme prompt.

**cw: offscreen sexual violence, forced pregnancy, gender dysphoria**

Anders had been a mess when Hawke found him in the clinic. He was tearing through his desk, destroying the scraps of his manifesto and his correspondence, denouncing all he had worked for the past few years. What was the point? There was nothing Anders could do to justify what he had nearly done. A helpless girl had been before him, needing his aid, and his rage had nearly destroyed her. 

Hawke had talked him through his panic, showing him the evidence she had found, and assuring him that not all was lost yet. She praised him for controlling Justice’s anger, praised him for being strong enough to fight back. Anders wanted to contradict her, to tell her it was sheer selfishness that had saved that girl. He wanted to confess, not for the first time, that he was in love with her and that it was sheerly out of love for her that he had pushed Justice aside. It wasn’t logic taking over or compassion for the girl. It was the sole thought that he loved Hawke and he would do anything she asked of him. And hadn’t he been right to do so? Anders had listened to Hawke when he was beyond himself and Hawke had guided him to do the right thing. She had believed Anders’ fears, addressed them seriously, but she had also been right that there were choices left to him. Ser Alrik had been rejected. The Chantry was still open to reason. There was still hope. 

And the part of him that was still him, that had managed to survive despite the merge with Justice and the creation of Vengeance, wanted to believe in that hope. 

“I’m scared,” Anders confessed.

“Me too,” Hawke admitted, “but we’re going to figure this out, Anders. I promise. We’ll find a way to help both of you, you and Justice. We’ll make it work.” 

Anders hung his head, too tired to deny her optimism. 

Hawke kissed his forehead. “You just get some rest. I’ll come check on you tomorrow, alright?” 

Anders was torn between telling her to leave him alone and begging her to stay. But she was probably right. He was exhausted and he need space to process what he wanted to do next. After she left, Anders went to file away Ser Alrik’s letter with the rest of his documentation and found the letter he had been reading when word had come to him about the meeting that night. Nienor Amell, former Warden Commander of the Grey Wardens, had written to her equally deserted colleague as his dear childhood friend. They exchanged letters every once in awhile, but since going AWOL several months ago, Amell had been harder to keep track of. The few letters he did get were crammed full of stories, advice, and now that Kiernan was a little older, the odd indecipherable doodle for his uncle. 

He smiled to himself, reading the letter over again. Maybe there was a bit of hope. Amell was free, both from the Circle and from the Grey Wardens. Amell was living free in her own body and soul, married to the love of her life, and the mother of a sweet and sensitive little boy who looked just like her wife Morrigan. Who could have imagined such a thing when they were young? Neither Anders or his friend could have even fathomed a happy ending.

The first time Anders had sat with the letter, he had been heartbroken, knowing that one day all would be stolen from Amell and that Kieran would be taken to the Circle and have the same horrific childhood that his mother had faced. Temporary happiness was almost worse than despair, hope more likely to break a heart than acceptance of the inevitable. But hadn’t Kieran been born out of a no-win scenario? He was conceived to prevent Amell’s death and to transform a corrupted god’s soul into a new being of light. Morrigan and Amell had faced a near impossible situation and they had made something beautiful out of it.

_There was always another way, but I dreaded to take it. I see now there is no other choice to end this. We must accept the cost of our failures and atone._

Then suddenly everything went black.  
___________________________________________

Anders woke gasping in his bed, unsure of how he had gotten there. Anders could remember...what exactly _could_ he remember? There had been pain, debilitating scream-inducing pain. That could have been what had left him unconscious, but he hadn't really been unconscious. He had felt like he was drunk, so drunk he couldn't talk or walk without being led. But Justice didn't let him get drunk, so that couldn't have been it. He had been...he went somewhere. Not far. Not too far at all. The makeshift tavern in the tunnel further east. He hadn't been drinking. He knew that for sure. But he had...

There had been a man...no, there had been more than one. Anders couldn't...they had been behind him. Anders hadn't fought them, but he hadn't picked them. Justice...Justice had manipulated Anders' body, used his voice, and then held him still while several men had him. Then...then what...what had happened to...

A thought of cold logic, the practicality of Vengeance. They had not been good men. They were the type of men who would take advantage of someone who couldn't consent. So Vengeance had killed them. 

But why? Why would Justice have done this? 

It was strange how quickly Anders was forgetting how Justice thought.

The ache returned and Anders stood, lighting a candle before standing before the mirror. He clasped a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming. His penis was gone. The ache, the inexplicable ache, was from a body part that he had not had the last time he was conscious. He could see the lips of a vulva, tucked away between his legs and nearly hidden by his pubic hair. Nervously, he reached down and touched his genitals, a finger testing the entrance of his vagina. It tightened at the intrusion and the ache worsened. Anders pulled his hand away and looked at his now slick fingertip. Examining it, he saw it was coated with some natural lubrication but it was flecked with spots of dried blood.

Anders spread his legs to get a better look at his inner thighs. They were covered in dried semen and there were streaks of blood, all clearly leaked from his vagina. It was feasible that if he somehow now had a vagina he had a hymen and if his first penetrative experience had been as rough as he thought it was, then it wouldn't have been unreasonable if that hymen had gotten torn. But this wasn't just a spot of blood. This amount of blood looked like he had been ripped open.

Perhaps he had. He seemed to remember two of them being in him at once.

This still didn't explain why though. Why had Justice massively transformed his body only to have it assaulted and then murder those who had done it? It made absolutely no sense, even just biologically speaking. Anders would have to examine further but even if his entire reproductive system had been shifted there wasn't anything to gain from it. Or lose, really. Sex was a spectrum. He didn't feel different in any other way. His chest looked the same. He still had the same secondary sex characteristics - stubble, a lump in his throat cartilage, the same shoulder breadth and waist to hip ratio. If Justice had wanted to change his appearance, he hadn't done a good job of it. The only benefit would be if Anders had wanted to bare a child instead of siring one, but that was a moot point anywhere because of the Taint. 

Wait.

Anders replayed the last conversation with Justice before he disappeared. There was another way. They had both known there was another way. Kiernan. The baby born with the soul of an old god but otherwise completely human. A host created specifically to house a corrupted spirit and through rebirth cleanse it and keep it safe. But Anders couldn't sire Justice onto someone else. He had to conceive himself, to transfer the spirit from body to another without dying. 

So Justice...

The pieces fell into place and Anders ran to the washbasin to vomit. His mind was blissfully focused on being sick, not allowing the truth to sink in until he had finished retching and laid down on the cold stone floor.

Anders had been changed so he could bare a child. Justice had used their shared magic to do something so complicated Anders had only thought it theoretically possible. Then Anders understood Justice's thought process. Anders would have fought him on this, for so many reasons. So Justice had to do it quickly while he had achieved complete control over him. Change him, force him to ovulate, and then ensure that he was impregnated. He couldn't risk only bedding one man and not conceiving. So he had found a group and let them have their way with Anders until they were no longer of use. Then Justice killed them, protecting Anders from anyone else knowing what he had done, and enacting vengeance on those who would agree to take part in such an act.

But Anders wouldn't know for sure if he were pregnant the morning after. Even if he had conceived, his body wouldn't really know until implantation and that could be two weeks just on its own. Was Justice so sure that this would work? Did he think Anders wouldn't notice until it was too late to do anything about it? 

But Justice was gone so clearly something had happened. Maybe conception was enough. It had been with Amell, otherwise she would have died when she killed the Archdemon. Maybe Justice hadn't known that - but Justice knew everything that Anders knew. Or he had...

The blurred memories of the night before played in his head. Justice had orchestrated it all. Some Darktown lowlife had fathered Anders' child and now the man was dead with a half dozen others in a pit somewhere. Justice would have just viewed semen as semen without considering the source but it left Anders feeling even sicker. Justice must have known - maybe Justice didn't care anymore. Anders was beyond saving. Justice might have thought...

But Anders couldn't ask him. For the first time in five years, his thoughts were entirely his own. There was no second opinion, no shared wisdom, no second wind of strength waiting for him. Anders was alone except for a bundle of cells quickly replicating as it travelled down towards his newly formed womb. 

Anders could end this, especially now before implantation. Then he could find some way to change his body back and be grateful for his freedom. But then where would that leave Justice? Best case, he would rejoin the Fade, but worst case he would be destroyed...no, worst case would be the spirit of Vengeance haunting Anders for the rest of his miserable life, trying once again to possess him.

It could be like it was with Kiernan, Anders tried to assure himself. The child would be born with Justice’s soul alongside their own and Justice would experience the world again through a child’s eyes. Justice could be restored to his natural state. This had to be the conclusion that Justice had made. The only solution to the failure of Anders to carry Justice’s spirit alongside his own. A purposely created child. Justice had spoken of atonement. He must have meant this to be Anders’. To birth a child and raise it until it was old enough to carry out Justice’s mission. If Anders did not do this...what sort of man did it make him to not accept the consequences of his actions? Justice had made the choice for him, forced him it on him because he would have been too cowardly to accept it. For that, the child’s conception had been brutal, a reminder that even though Justice’s presence was no longer felt, Justice still had control over him. Until the baby was born, Anders’s body didn’t belong to him. 

Anders started retching again and did not stop until there was nothing left in him. He crawled back into bed and raised the covers over his head. He broke into sobs and cried himself back to sleep.

When Hawke came to check on him, he didn’t answer the door. She knocked for a time and called out his name, each time sounding more and more desperate. Anders knew she was likely to break down the door so he dragged himself from the bed and went to the door. He opened it just a crack, refusing to look her in the eye.

“Just go,” Anders hissed. 

Hawke stepped back, frowning. “Anders, what’s going on?” 

“I don’t want you to talk to you or anyone else. Just go.”

Hawke’s voice softened. “Anders, please, I-”

Anders fought the urge to open the door and tell her everything. She’d fix it. She’d make it better, whether he deserved it or not. She’d make it all go away. 

But for once in his life, he had to stop running. He had to accept the consequences. He had to atone. She couldn’t do it for him. 

Anders closed the door and locked it. He rested against it, covering his mouth with his hand, fearful he would start crying. He could feel Hawke’s hand on the other side, the quiet buzz of her magic reaching out to his. 

Anders closed his eyes and whispered, “Just leave me alone. Please.” 

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that but eventually Hawke pulled away. Once he was sure she was gone, he broke into tears. 

___________________________________________

Anders kept his clinic closed for two weeks, unable to focus on anything but the inevitability of the pregnancy and what he would do to survive it. People had been hiding pregnancies since the beginning of time. No one would expect him to be expecting. He could hide it for the first two trimesters, certainly, and he could sneak off back to Ferelden for the last trimester and have the baby there. Maybe...maybe the baby would even stay there. Anders was not fit to be a parent. Justice had made that clear. But Amell was already raising one child with two spirits. Maybe the baby could just be raised alongside Kieran as his sibling. Or maybe Nate - 

No. No. Anders wouldn’t be strong enough to leave him, not again. And he couldn’t take advantage of Nathaniel, who would be ever so willing to take on yet another responsibility. Even taking in the man who had abandoned him without a word and the child that wasn’t his. 

When Anders first sensed the implantation, his daydreams of a happy ending faded away. Reality sunk in. He had to live long enough to get to Ferelden. What would happen if anyone realized what had happened? There was no ally to turn to. No one here that didn’t think he was half crazy already. If someone realized he was pregnant, realized what potential abomination he was carrying...there were a hundred terrible things that could happen and Anders imagined them all vividly. 

The best thing to do was to keep going. He’d just focus on the clinic, nothing outside of it. It would be enough to keep the community on his side. And he’d avoid anyone who knew anything about Justice. Just keep his head down. Sure, working with Hawke would get him coin faster to get out of Kirkwall, but he couldn’t risk being found out. Even Hawke, as involved as she was with the Underground, might think he was too much of a liability. She had seen what he was capable of. How could she justify doing anything but turning him in to the Templars herself. 

For the first month, Anders had convinced himself that the plan would succeed. He hid a bit of coin aside, ate little, and slept as much as he could. Hawke had come back once a day until he finally let her in and he made up some excuse about still needing space. She seemed to at least accept it but afterwards a few of the others of their group would drop by for a chat. He was polite but stern, insisting he had a lot of work to do and that he had no time for any day trips or evenings out. 

The second month was much the same except that Anders couldn’t even keep water down some mornings. He suffered silently, grateful that he had at least lost a few pounds. One of those mornings he was too worn to protest a visit from Hawke and let her mop his brow while he laid in bed, chamberpot beside him. It had been foolish. If she had tried to heal his stomach, she would have likely sensed the changes in his body. But she respected his request not to do so and instead just took care of him as if she were just a medic and not a skilled mage. He said it was food poisoning, so she trusted him and treated him like it was food poisoning. 

He started feeling better after that and the third month was a little easier. He had started having heart palpitations but they seemed to settle if he sat for a while. His morning sickness had settled but his body only wanted to eat two things: a particular type of salted fish from Southern Ferelden and plain unleavened bread. Anything else made him queasy for hours but buying the same fish again and again would be too suspicious for any onlooker so he had to make do. 

When he sensed the heartbeat for the first time, he went to bed and stayed there for two days. When he wasn’t crying, he tossed and turned in his sleep, deep into feverish nightmares. He woke up screaming more than once and each time he could feel the fluttering in his belly, the reminder that his racing heart was affecting more than just himself. The pregnancy was less abstract now as more and more he felt another presence within himself. He couldn’t hide it away for much longer, not with his paunch starting to press against his clothes. Pregnancy wouldn’t be the average person’s first guess, but it would still inspire questions that Anders wasn’t willing to answer. 

Hawke noticed it first, but her guess seemed to be malnutrition and she stopped by every day with food and an invitation to come have a meal at her home. Anders refused the latter but he did accept her deliveries. It seemed to appease her enough to leave him otherwise alone.

Six days after quickening, Anders fainted. Two of his patients helped him to his bed and another ran to get help. Anders tried to explain that it was just a flu but soon Merrill was there feeding him soup and fixing the rip in his jacket from the fall. He was just grateful that the patient had been too afraid to go into Hightown and had gone home to the Alienage to get the other mage publicly in Anders’ life. Anders asked her not to tell Hawke, which she agreed to but only managed to keep the promise for about three days. By then, Anders felt fine and looked healthy enough to convince Hawke it had just been a flu and that he gotten over it.

But the incident was not so easily forgotten in Darktown. Patients asked Anders how he was feeling, mentioning they had heard he had collapsed mid surgery. Of course, Anders had been checking someone’s temperature and he had only stumbled, but the story was getting more and more dramatic as time went on. This was not helped when in the beginning of month five Anders actually did have to stop a procedure in order to run off and throw up in a wastebasket. 

Anders washed up, finishing sewing together the stab wound, and then sent everyone away with orders to come back first thing in the morning. He spent the rest of the day shivering in bed, occasionally rising to throw up again. 

In the middle of the night, Anders heard the door to his clinic open. He rose shakily, expecting it to be Hawke, being the only other person with a key, or Isabela, the best lockpick in their group of companions. Anders went to assure that he was fine and tell them to go home but when he left his bedroom he realized that he had guessed poorly. Instead of a friend with a pot of soup and a lecture, two Templars stood before him with one just behind them barricading the door.

Anders reached out to his magic to shield him but the first Templar grabbed him by the throat while the second Silenced him. Anders gasped, trying to catch his breath, quickly panicking. Justice wasn’t here, ready to step in with his own power. Anders was alone, half way to term, and without any way to protect himself. 

The second Templar grabbed Anders’ arms and bound his wrists together. The first dropped him hard on the ground, Anders’ hip and cheekbone taking most of the blow. 

“So this is the Healer of Darktown,” the first chuckled. “I thought he’d put up a bigger fight, didn’t you? The way people talked about him, you’d think he was a demon. But look at him. Just a scrawny weakling.”

The second commented. “Not so scrawny. Look at the gut on him.”

Anders curled in on himself, trying to shield his belly. The second laughed.

“A little vain, are we?” He sneered. “Maybe we need to teach him a lesson before we bring him in. A little humility is good for the soul.”

Anders had been in this position before, many years ago. How old had he been that first time he had been sought out? How many times had it took before he had just learned to take it, before he had learned that sometimes the best way to survive was not to fight but to endure?

Consequences. Justice had known that Anders would be vulnerable without him. But Justice had submitted Anders to just this. What would Justice have cared if it happened again? Justice would have considered this an acceptable cost for the cause. Would have considered this as part of his atonement.

So Anders didn’t fight as the second picked him up by the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and accepted what was to come.

And then there was a hard kick to the door and it slammed open.

Anders was dropped, tumbling to the ground. He looked up to see...he could hardly believe it to see it. He had seen Hawke fight before, but she mostly acted as a protective force for others. But it seemed that she was capable of greater destruction that he could have ever imagined.

When the three lay dead, Hawke ran to Anders and untied his wrists. He burst into tears and she kissed his cheeks, promising him that it was over and that he was safe now. She helped him to his feet and he held her, burying his face in her shoulder. 

Hawke pleaded, “We have to go, Anders. Please. Just hold on a little longer.”

Anders forced himself to stumble after her, letting her lead him through the crooked alleys of Darktown and through the secret passage to her home. Anders found himself close to fainting again and he leaned heavily on Hawke as she brought him into her bedroom. 

Anders murmured, “Something...something I’ve got to…”

She assured him that all would be well and helped him to lie down. She returned with hot water, a thick heavy blanket, and a cup of strong black tea. This was the right protocol for someone recovering from being Silenced. But even the smell of the tea made him feel queasy and despite shivering he felt incredibly hot. 

Anders tried again, “Hawke. I have to tell you...I’m…I’m…”

Hawke asked, “Did they physically hurt you? Is there anything else I need to treat?” 

Anders shook his head tiredly. “No.” 

Hawke covered him with the blanket and despite the heat, the softness of it was a great comfort. He pulled it around him just a little tighter as she washed the blood from his face. She helped him sit up and encouraged to him to drink.

Anders gently pushed the cup away. “Hawke, please listen to me.” 

Hawke sat on the edge of the bed and reflexively he took her hand in his. She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb, waiting for him to speak. He began to doubt himself. She might have protected him from the Templars for now, but what would she do when she knew the truth?

But what other choice did he have?

Anders confessed, “Hawke, I’m pregnant.”

Hawke looked stunned and he could almost see her trying to rationalize what he had just said. After a time, she said, “Anders, I’ve seen you naked before. A few times. When we went up the Wounded Coast like six months ago, Isabela flashed you when we were swimming and you flashed her back as a joke and...you’re not...at least, I didn’t think you were transgender. Are you? I’m so sorry to be so crude, I just didn’t think you were able to be pregnant and I’m trying to process that. Did something...happen?” 

Anders bowed his head. “It’s...it’s complicated.”

Hawke hesitated before squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m sorry I even asked, that was awful of me.”

Anders’ heart skipped a beat as he looked at her sheepish expression. How had he been so afraid to go to her before? She had the kindest and gentlest soul he had ever met. If anyone would understand, it was her.

So he told her. All of it. Even about Amell, which he felt very guilty about as he had been sworn to secrecy. But he needed Hawke to understand. He needed her to understand why Justice had done what he had done. Why it had been necessary. But as he spoke, Hawke’s vibrant dark skin grew almost grey and her brown eyes brimmed with tears. She swallowed hard and Anders could tell she was willing herself not to start crying. He was sure that she had decided his fate, that she had decided to give him up. That he was not worth this risk.

When there was nothing left to say, Hawke whispered, “I’m so sorry, Anders. I’m so sorry that Justice did this to you.”

Anders broke into horrible, ugly sobs and Hawke brought him into her arms. Anders lost himself in her embrace, all his pain and suffering unravelling in front of her. 

The rest of the night was a blur to him. Hawke had helped him change into softer clothes and she had lit a fire for them. She slept on top of the covers beside him – or at least she laid there, she seemed to be already awake each time he stirred. And each time, Hawke would bring him to rest his head on her shoulder and comb her fingers through his hair until he drifted off once more.

___________________________________________

Anders woke to find Hawke gone and the mabari in her place. Anders sat up and the dog licked Anders’ face excitedly before bumping his face against Anders’ chest, demanding to be petted. Anders reluctantly did so and then the mabari rested his head on Anders’ thigh.

Hawke entered the room a moment later with a tray of food. One dish was her normal meal of porridge and tea and the other was a plate of plain flatbread and tiny salted fish. Not quite the right bread or the right fish, but Anders was incredibly touched that after all the things he said Hawke had remembered his pregnancy cravings. 

Hawke sat up in bed beside him and stole one of the fish to give to the mabari. The dog happily ate it before snuggling back up to Anders.

Hawke apologized, “Sorry. Mabaris are notoriously protective of their pregnant masters. Once he got a sniff of you, he wouldn’t leave your side.”

Anders looked skeptically down at the dog who only grinned back at him.

Hawke began her own meal and Anders slowly picked away at his. Neither of them spoke, just smiling at the other when their eyes met. When Anders was finished eating, Hawke took the dishes, kissed him on the forehead and told him to get some sleep. Hawke whistled at the mabari to follow her and the dog sat down defiantly, refusing to leave Anders. She promised it a nice steak and the traitorous dog agreed, trotting right after her.

Anders napped well past noon. He heard murmured voices outside the door and he sat up suddenly, ready to bolt. Instead Hawke entered, closing the door behind her.

“Just Bodahn,” Hawke assured. “He wanted to know if you were feeling better.”

Anders demanded, “What did you tell him?”

Hawke explained, “That the clinic was broken into and you were roughed up a bit. I said that you were staying with us until the situation was handled.”

Anders swallowed hard. “The situation.”

Hawke sat on the bed beside him and pulled her knees up to her chest. He moved to be closer to her, his knees almost against hers. 

Hawke began, “I’d like to write to the Warden Commander for help. Hopefully she has some advice about...this sort of thing. But in the meantime, we need a plan for keeping you and the baby safe. I have an idea, but you might not be comfortable with it.”

Anders admitted softly, “I don’t have a lot of options, Hawke. What is it?”

Hawke rubbed the back of her neck. “Well...you’re only starting to show now. I thought that maybe we’d try to pass it off as mine. We’ll pretend I’m pregnant and that you’re the dad. If you start really showing, it’ll just be sympathetic weight gain. It’ll be a big scandal and we’ll say that we’re hiding away to avoid the public eye. No one will think there’s anything strange happening besides another Amell having a torrid affair with an apostate.”

She tried to play the last sentence as a joke but her expression was pained. This would be a great blow to her social standing in Kirkwall and her relationship with her mother, who had already moved out due to disagreements about Hawke’s lifestyle. 

Hawke concluded, “Then I guess when the baby’s born, you could still go meet them to Ferelden. I’ll say we broke up and you got custody. I’ll provide for both of you, obviously. You’ll be well taken care of no matter what. And then you’ll always be under my protection. You won’t be an apostate running around with a possibly possessed child. You’ll be the father of the Amell heir. You’ll be safe.”

Anders refused, “Hawke, I couldn’t...I couldn’t ask that. This is my responsibility. We could both be hauled off to the Gallows, regardless of your name. And if you were caught, if you were to be found out...I won’t risk your life for my mistake.”

Hawke took his face in her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “Anders, listen to me. You were violated and impregnated against your will. You’ve had your body held hostage for months out of fear of what Justice might inflict on you. You have done nothing wrong. If anyone made a mistake, it was me for not staying with you that night.”

Anders disagreed quietly, “There was nothing you could have done, Hawke.”

Hawke shook her head. “No. I should have done something. I knew you were both unsettled. I should have found some sort of solution instead of just leaving you alone with him. Or I should have just...I knew something was wrong and I should have done more instead of just leaving you to suffer for months. You needed me and I...I just pined and I told myself I was doing what you wanted, giving you space, but really I was just too scared to face you. Not because of what nearly happened with that girl. But because…”

Hawke admitted, “Because I love you and I didn’t want to hear you say that you didn’t love me. But that was so selfish because we’re friends and I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. And it doesn’t matter because I want you in my life, however you want to be in it. If you want to be in it at all. So let me do this. Let me help.”

Anders whispered, “You already have. I nearly did something unspeakable but just hearing your voice gave me the strength to crawl back to myself. I am so incredibly, unfathomably devoted to you that in that dark moment my soul chose you above any rational or irrational thought. You have already protected me when I needed you most. You have already saved my life. Don’t ever doubt that. Nor doubt how much I love you.” 

Hawke let out a long shaky sigh, smiling at him nervously. The fluttering in his belly quickened and Anders placed a hand over it to soothe it. Their eyes met and Anders took her hand and gently placed it where his had been. Hawke’s eyes laughed in surprise and then she beamed at him.

Hawke laced her fingers with his, leaned in, and kissed him. Anders brought her into his lap and kissed her deeply. Hawke wrapped her legs around his hips before her lips hungrily met his. Before this could be explored further, they were interrupted by a door slamming open and a dog jumping up on the bed beside them. 

They both sighed, laughing and smiling sheepishly at the other. Anders stroked her cheek before kissing her gently. 

Hawke suggested, “Maybe we can continue this conversation in the bath?”  
___________________________________________

Hawke had already sent the three servants off to the theatre so she drew the bath herself. Once it was ready, she shooed the mabari away and helped escorted Anders into the room. She helped him undress, her eyes fixed on his instead of his unwillingly changed form. She helped him into the very soapy tub before undressing and sliding in beside him. Anders had expected them to carry right on from their conversation but instead Hawke washed his hair and brushed out the tangles. Then tied it back and sat behind him to massage his tight shoulders. Anders let himself relax under her touch and he thought he might fall asleep once more. When she was done, she kissed his cheek and snuggled onto his chest. Anders put his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Anders asked softly.

Hawke sighed happily. “Yes, very much so.”

Anders hesitated. “Even though...I’m not sure if I change my body back, Hawke.”

Hawke shifted and kissed him tenderly. Anders pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, wanting to feel nothing but her presence. 

Hawke asked, “Can I touch you?”

Anders bristled slightly. He had been more than happy to pleasure Hawke but the idea of having sex with this body when it had only been used…

Hawke brushed her nose against his. “It’s okay, Anders. Nothing has to happen. Do you want to snuggle a bit more?”

Anders admitted, “I haven’t jerked off since all of this. It’s just too weird.”

“I can’t imagine,” she commiserated. “Brand new skill set.”

Anders chuckled. “Well, not entirely. Just not from that angle before.”

Hawke giggled. “Fair enough.” 

Anders took a deep breath. “I’m not opposed to trying to figure it out. It’s just sort of like losing your virginity all over again, I guess. Though I mean, technically, that ship has sailed.”

Hawke murmured, “That wasn’t sex, Anders.”

He admitted quietly, “I know. It’s just…”

Hawke stroked a stray hair behind his ear. “I know.”

Anders swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you do.”

Hawke smiled weakly. “You know, I do have some experience from that angle. You’re not even the first man built like you that I’ve been with. I could show you a good time.” 

Anders laughed, grateful for the subject to shift. “I don’t doubt that, sweetheart.”

“So you let me know when or if you’re ready,” she said softly, “and until then, we won’t worry about it. Okay?”

Anders agreed gratefully.

___________________________________________

By dusk, Anders had settled enough to come downstairs to have dinner in the kitchen. Hawke sat at the small servants’ table with Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana, happily listening as they told her about the show – a slap stick comedy about two Templars who were very bad at their jobs. Anders sat down beside Hawke and the mabari immediately left his place by the hearth to come and lay by his feet.

Hawke smiled at Anders and gave his hand a squeeze. Bodahn got up, ladled Anders out a portion of soup, and brought it and a slab of bread over to him. 

Bodahn said cheerfully, “Glad to see you on your feet, Mr. Anders. If you need anything from any of us, you just feel free to ask us.”

Anders was about to thank him when there was a knock at the door. Hawke’s hand, still on Anders’, tensed. Orana went to answer the door and Bodahn encouraged Anders to eat. Anders took a few tentative spoonfuls before Orana came back, wringing her hands nervously.

“Knight-Captain Rutherford is here to see you, Miss,” she squeaked out. “I told him you were at dinner, but he says it’s very important and he wouldn’t leave until you spoke to him.”

Hawke visibly swallowed. “Fine.”

Bodahn looked between the two mages before instructing his son to help Anders back to Hawke’s room through the servants’ staircase. Orana he sent out with refreshments for the Knight-Captain with a kindly but direct order to keep quiet. Hawke nodded to Bodahn before following Orana back into the living room.

Sandal guided Anders back into Hawke’s room and set up a small folding table by the bed for him. Once Anders was settled, he came back up with Anders’ dinner and with a shy smile told him to enjoy.

Anders ate a little, too panicked to feel nauseous. He knew it wasn’t that uncommon for Templars to show up at the Amell Estate, sniffing around for any misdeeds. But for them to send Rutherford was a sign that this was more serious. 

Anders heard footsteps on the main stairs. Too heavy to be Hawke’s, she had just been in slippers. He got out of bed and locked himself in the wardrobe. A moment later, Hawke’s door swung open. Through the keyhole, Anders could make out Rutherford – not in armour, strangely, but in the demure outfit that many Templars wore when not on duty. 

Hawke protested, “Cullen, I don’t know what you want me to say. I told you I had nothing to do with it and I haven’t even seen the guy in weeks. If he was on the lam, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to come here in the middle of Hightown. If he’s not in Darktown or Lowtown, he’s probably not even in Kirkwall anymore.”

Rutherford argued, “Hawke, it doesn’t matter. I’m telling you, Meredith is out for blood for this. Those weren’t just some recruits who picked the wrong fight. It was an official investigation. She sent those men to bring him in because she’d been hearing rumours for months that the healer of Darktown was finally vulnerable to nab. The fact that three men died trying to apprehend him isn’t going to convince her she should just let him go. They just proved her point. There is no such thing as an innocent apostate.”

“If you really think that, then why are you here?”

The Knight-Captain sighed. “You know why.”

Anders suspected he did too. There had been four of them in their little group of friends growing up. Anders, Amell, Jowan, and Surana. The last, the dark-skinned elven woman with a kind smile and a kinder heart, had once been the object of a much younger Cullen’s affection. Was it possible that after all this time, and so many years after Surana’s death during the Tower’s uprising, that his feelings for her were still enough to try to save Anders’ life?

Or was he making a different sort of romantic confession? 

Hawke said nothing for a long time then finally murmured, “You should go.”

“Hawke-”

Then there was the clink of metal against ceramic. His dishes. 

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Anders could practically hear Hawke’s eyes roll. “Cullen-”

“Orana said you were having dinner with them in the kitchen. That’s where she was going to collect you from. So whose dinner is this?”

“It must be Sandal’s,” Hawke said quickly. “He gets nervous having strangers around when he’s eating. He must have come up here through the servants’ staircase to finish eating and then run out when he heard us come up the stairs.”

“Your room? Not his own?”

The door opened and Sandal entered with a quiet, “Thank you, Miss.” He took the dishes, and left the room again, closing the door behind him. 

“See?” Hawke concluded. 

Rutherford sighed. “Hawke, just for once, just listen to me. If I bring him in, I can keep him safe. I can get him transferred back to Ferelden and away from Meredith before she makes a martyr out of him. I can protect him. But you have to trust me.”

Hawke insisted, “You should go, Cullen.”

Anders heard them both leave the room but he was too scared to move. He hid for what felt like hours before Sandal returned and opened the wardrobe doors. The dwarf helped him out and sat him on the bed.

“Miss,” Sandal said, smiling, and then went out to the hallway. He called out “Miss!” again and a moment later Hawke rushed into the room and embraced Anders. Sandal waved a goodbye and left, closing the door behind him. 

Hawke explained quickly, “We’ve going to leave town tonight, you and me. There’s a ship leaving for Highever in two hours. We’re going to go to Amarathine and we’ll find Amell. We’ll figure the rest out from there. I’m not risking them finding you. I’ve got Orana packing up my things and I’ve sent Bodahn to get yours. I’ve got enough coin on me to keep us going for a while. We’ll make it work.”

Anders protested, “Hawke, if you go with me...love, this isn’t going to end well. We will be on the run the rest of our lives with a possibly demonic child on our hands. You can’t give up everything you have here for that.”

Hawke took his hands in hers. “I know this is very sudden and I normally would like to go on a date first before asking someone to run away with me. I know what the consequences could be and I know there could be another hundred terrible consequences that I don’t know about yet. But I’m in if you’re in.”

Anders thought that he would be swallowed by guilt for accepting her offer but instead he felt an incredible wave of relief. 

He agreed, “I’m in.” 

___________________________________________

It was not a long trip but Anders spent much of it hurling over the side of the boat. Hawke stood with him in all sorts of weather, holding back his hair or rubbing his shoulders. She eventually bartered with another passenger for chewy ginger candies and these settled Anders’ stomach enough that he was able to at least get some rest. 

They stayed two days in Highever until Anders was recovered enough to travel by carriage to the city of Amaranthine. He grew increasingly nervous. He wasn’t terribly likely to be recognized, especially in his current state, but the new Warden-Commander apparently had quite a network of informants. If someone even suspected he was a deserted Warden, Nathaniel would find out very quickly.

Luckily, they managed to convince their hired coach to turn north before reaching the city and towards the river that Amell had spoken of in her letter. They took their gear and followed the river on foot. They walked until nightfall and then set up camp among the trees. Anders was pleasantly surprised by Hawke’s survival skills, having forgotten that the mage had spent most of her life providing for her family as a hunter. As they curled up together that night, Anders could imagine their life in the woods together. Anders taking care of their cottage as Hawke hunted the woods. Their child growing up as comfortable with a bow as with a staff. A quiet life, hidden away from any who might harm them. Away from the struggle, away from the fight. Peace. How could anyone want anything more than peace?

The baby seemed to disagree, spending most of the night kicking against Anders’ bladder, as if punishing him for even considering the idea of rest.

___________________________________________

They walked to where the river split into three and waited by a large granite boulder for another day and night. Then at dawn Anders felt a long-missed presence, the taint in his blood calling out to another’s. That deep set drawing of one Grey Warden to another. He knew Amell was near, even before she stepped out of the trees. 

Amell saw Anders and grinned. She raced down to him and threw her arms around him. The baby shifted, as if it was trying to get closer to Amell. 

Amell stepped back, looking at Anders’ belly. She laughed in surprise before hugging Anders again even more tightly. 

Hawke went to introduce herself but Amell only briefly waved before asking Anders a hundred questions about his life over the past five years. Hawke begrudgingly broke down camp on her own and packed up their gear. When she was done, Amell led them through the thicket before reaching a small clearing. There lay a small log cabin. Just outside it was a woman with long raven black hair carrying a toddler on her hip. The boy kept his thumb in his mouth, nervously looking towards Amell. 

Amell beamed. “Anders, this is my wife Morrigan and this is our son, Kieran. He’s just a little shy. We don’t get many visitors out here.”

“Any visitors,” Morrigan corrected, shooting her wife a dirty glance. “For good reason.”

Amell chuckled. “I think you’re going to find this a fascinating exception, dearest.”

Morrigan scowled at first but then brightened when her wife kissed her cheek and took Kieran into her own arms. Kieran clung to his other mother, hiding into her shoulder. Amell said something to Morrigan near silently and the mage full out giggled. 

Amell turned back to Anders and Hawke. “Come on in, friends. Our home is your home, as long as you need it.”

Morrigan agreed reluctantly, “Please, come in.”

___________________________________________

Morrigan’s concerns were soon outweighed by her excitement over Anders’ condition. She wanted to know everything about his relationship with Justice and how the merging had occurred. It felt strange to divulge to her, considering there was so much he had never spoken of to anyone before. But Anders slowly grew comfortable with her, aided by the knowledge that this was the woman Amell had chosen to spend her life with. Morrigan was worthy of his trust.

The day went by quickly and Anders was soon so tired it seemed an impossible feat to even make it to bed. The baby was oddly relaxed, even shifting into a more comfortable position. Anders stroked his belly – Maker, he hadn’t noticed how much it had grown during the trip – to encourage the baby to continue to be kind to him. 

As evening fell upon them, Amell asked Anders to speak alone with her. Hawke looked reluctant at first to leave him but eventually was swayed by a sleepy Kieran who wanted her to tell him a new bedtime story. 

Amell sat on the edge of the bed with her old friend. For a time, neither said anything, but finally Amell took his hand in hers.

“I don’t know what it’s like to suddenly be in the wrong body,” Amell said gently, “but I do know what it’s like to not have your outsides match your insides. And I know how dysphoric baby making can be, especially when it gets sprung on you.”

“It’s worse carrying a child then siring one,” Anders argued. “It’s just in there...growing...and I know I should feel something, feel anything, but it’s just…”

Anders confessed tearfully, “I can’t stop being angry. At myself, for destroying Justice so completely. And at him for not giving me the choice. I would have done anything for him, anything he asked. If he had only asked, I would have done it.”

Anders whispered, “It should have been Nate. Justice wanted him. I was just closer. If it had been him, then Justice wouldn’t have been corrupted. None of this would have happened. It was me. It was my anger. I broke him.”

Amell murmured, “Anders, you did the best you could in an impossible situation. You risked your life to save another. You gave your entire life for him. You know what I think? I don’t think any of the rest of us would have survived. Justice would have overwhelmed us and we’d be nothing but shells. You have always wanted to live. You have always fought to live. Your anger didn’t ruin Justice. Your anger saved your life. What happened with Justice would have happened with any mortal. But most mortals wouldn’t have survived a possession that long and still had a shred of themselves left. Most mortals would not have been able to hold him back.” 

Anders protested, “No. He wasn’t like that before, he was-”

Amell chuckled. “Anders, I was his superior officer and his friend. I knew Justice too. He was like any of us, just without the decades of learning how to be a person. He wanted to do what was right and he was frustrated that we couldn’t just do that. He was impatient and he was unbending. Which is going to make for a great toddler, by the way. I don’t envy you, just having gotten through those years myself.”

Anders tried to imagine it. He could barely imagine having a real living baby to begin with. But a toddler? A child? A teenager? A whole own being looking up to him or despising him. Hating him or loving him. Anders had barely had a father. How was he supposed to raise any child, never mind one who held Justice’s soul alongside its own? 

Amell said softly, “Anders, if you don’t want to have the kid, you don’t have to. Or at least you don’t have to keep it. Morrigan and I have talked about it. We’d be happy to take them in. We’ll tell them whatever you want as they get older.”

That was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he had come here. Amell would know what to do. Amell would make it all go away.

Then what? He’d just go back to Kirkwall with Hawke? He’d be like any other mage. There’d be nothing to keep him safe and nothing he could offer the Underground. He could go back to the Wardens, he supposed, or he could go back on the run. 

All the options left him feeling impossibly empty. Justice had been his purpose for years. He had always known where he belonged: the struggle. He had given up his selfish ways and become the best possible version of him. The version that would die for what was right, without any concern for himself. It had been wrong, their merging, and it had nearly destroyed both of them. But that direction, that drive...there was a power there that could not be so easily tossed aside. 

Who would he be with the child? Who would he be without it?

Amell said softly, “There is time to decide things later. Just rest for now. You and Hawke are safe here with us. Just rest.”

___________________________________________

For a few months, Anders did just that. He and Hawke settled into their life in the forest. Hawke took to her old lifestyle easily and seemed happier here than she ever had in Kirkwall. Within a week or so, Amell treated her like a long-lost sister. Morrigan…well, she was a lot less suspicious of Hawke and Anders and at times was actually quite kind to Anders. As his pregnancy progressed, Morrigan was more and more at his side offering support and advice. And there was Kiernan. Adorable, kindhearted Kieran who was a great case for fatherhood. There were times that Anders and Hawke looked at each other and though she said nothing he knew what was in her heart. She wanted Anders to keep the baby and they would raise it together. They would be a family together. 

Anders remained undecided. Not about Hawke. While their relationship was still relatively sexless, their physical intimacy had only grown. They slept each night curled up with the other, her hand protectively on his belly. There was no doubt in his mind that what they had was real and no matter what happened next, they would be together unless the Maker himself tore them apart. And Anders suspected Hawke would still put up a good fight if He tried. 

In the last few days of his pregnancy, Anders grew more and more anxious. He couldn’t sit still, but he was also too tired to stand or walk. Lying down was worse, it felt too vulnerable. He wanted to find some hole to hide in, to keep the world out and away from him and his baby. He could stand Hawke’s company – she didn’t make the anxiety worse at least unlike the other three. She still gave him his space, only touching him when he asked her to. He trusted her, even when he felt like it was foolish to trust anyone.

On the third day of his deep dread, his contractions started. The rest followed quickly, far quicker than it had any right to. Morrigan instructed the other two, acting as midwife even though the only baby she had birthed was her own. The pain was horrific, but he had expected that. What he couldn’t have prepared for was the fear. He cried and cried while Hawke sat behind him, holding him protectively. He didn’t stop crying until Morrigan shifted him to his knees and told him to push.

Anders nearly passed out when the baby slid from him, his entire body shaking and his vision growing white. At the child’s cry, Anders collapsed onto the bed and Hawke helped him onto his back to rest. Anders was vaguely aware of Morrigan cleaning off the baby’s face but only truly processed what had happened when the baby was laid upon his bare chest. 

There is a cliché that a parent loves their baby at first sight. It is not always the case. Emotions are not so easily switched on or off. There is no shame in that. Anders knew this and that was what he expected for himself. 

He was not expecting that, almost immediately after birth, his daughter would sneeze and that her tiny little sniffle would be enough to turn his heart to her. It was such a human gesture that Anders laughed and instinctively held out his arms to take her. She sneezed again as he chuckled and once she settled, he wiped her wrinkled little face clean. She peeked at him, almost skeptically, before closing her eyes and resting against his chest.

Hawke asked, “How is she?”

Anders imagined she meant physically, assuming that the medical side of Anders’ mind would be kicking in to examine her. But Anders was so overwhelmed by her presence that he could only whisper, “Perfect.”

And it was in that moment he made his decision. He would consider it further, not allowing just his intense current hormones to decide his future. But his decision was unchanged even as the days went by. 

Anders loved his daughter and that was why he had to let her go.  
___________________________________________

For the first two weeks of his daughter’s life, she slept in a little bassinet beside his and Hawke’s bed. Hawke normally was the one to attend to her but Anders spent the last night at the little cottage curled up with his daughter by the fire. 

He couldn’t stop looking at her little face and she in turn watched him just as intently. Did she know he was leaving? If she did, she didn’t cry or fuss. Had she already given up on him? 

At dawn, Hawke gently woke him and took the baby from his arms. She sat at the edge of the couch, letting Anders rest his feet in her lap.

Hawke said softly, “This doesn’t have to be forever. When things are more settled in Kirkwall, then we can bring her home.”

Hawke started crying and Anders sat up, bringing both of them into his arms.

Anders murmured, “No, not forever.”


End file.
